Descendant
by Hadi42
Summary: In Fódlan, the legends say the world was created by a Mother Goddess, who even now watches over the land and its people from the heavens above. But legends are not truths, and gods, for all their power, are neither omnipotent nor fully divine. This is the story of the Mother Goddess, and of her descent, reflected through her own eyes.
1. Reminiscence

It is impossible to comprehend that which is beyond understanding. We know this, for it is a truth we are born carrying within, a fire that tells us what we are, and what we must do, but never, _never, _why. It is not possible to know, for not even gods are born with the knowledge of what came before. We exist because we are, and by the virtue of existing we cannot know about non-existence. It is the way of all things, and it will be forevermore, whether we are here to witness it or not.

Oh dear, have I confused you? Perhaps that was too much for a mere human to grasp. Or perhaps I have lost the skill of eloquence over the ages. It would not surprise me; I have not had a guest in much too long.

Does that surprise you? In truth, divinity is a lonely existence, though perhaps not quite as severe as one might think. Many a god has lost themselves to the fear of near eternal solitude. It is why so many of us interfere where perhaps we should not.

Yes, child. Gods, in the plural. Did you never wonder what lies beyond Fódlan? Did you think gods to be the same in all realms? It is simply not possible. We may be divine, but we are neither eternal nor powerful enough to sustain life by ourselves. We too, age and die, though our lives cannot be measured by the concept of human time.

It may sound strange, but it is the truth. I could not tell you why, for we are not the creators your kind believe. I could not even tell you if such creators exist.

It is not possible to comprehend that which is beyond our understanding.

I repeat it not as an admonishment, but because it is as true for humans as it is for the gods. We cannot know why. It is a binding law of nature.

We cannot understand.

But there are other things I know. Things that, perhaps, I have no right to tell you. I do not wish to overwhelm you with that which is beyond you. And yet...

It has been _so _long, since I last had company...

...Very well. You seem interested in knowing the truth, and I have never been one to deny knowledge, even beyond the ken of man. Listen closely then, child, and I shall tell you of this land, and how the Mother Goddess came to be here.

For I am she who fell upon this land when it was still young, she who nurtured and protected, who taught and loved all living things.

I am Sothis.

I am The Beginning.

But I did not begin in Fódlan.


	2. Sirius

Humans are unable to recall their moment of birth, but that is not the case for stars. This is because stars are born only through intense strength of will. They awaken, less than the meanest specks in the darkness of the sky, weak and cold and terrified, but even then they are not yet born. You see, stars are born from specks but not all specks become stars. Only the specks who fight and struggle to break through the darkness at all costs can draw the light and warmth of the universe to themselves, and so it is a brutal existence, one that lasts much longer than any mortal can fathom. At the end of that immense span of time, if the speck has been desperate enough, ruthless enough, persistent enough... then and only then can a star exist.

You are giving me a strange look, child.

"How can a star struggle?"

And why shouldn't they? Stars are not pretty lights placed in the sky for humans to admire. They are not objects.

"They aren't?"

Of course they aren't! What do they even teach children in that Church of yours nowadays?! Objects, ha! Stars are the reason this world is not an empty, dark void, foolish child. Do you believe any life could exist without warmth and light?

"Stars are not warm..."

Oh is that so? And how many stars do you know?

"... There is Polaris, and Altair..."

And you have met them?

"... They're stars, how can I have met them?"

If you have not, then you cannot know of their warmth. But there is another star you know very well, which provides everything this world needs to grow...

But that is another story for another day. Now, where was I...

Yes, the birth of stars. Every star remembers the moment they cease to become specks. It is impossible not to put forth the tremendous effort required and not understand the enormity of what one has accomplished. It is a moment of pure exhaustion, of relief. At last, one is no longer a speck! One need not steal light and matter to survive, for now it is possible to produce one's own! And best of all, it is now possible to _be. _You see, specks do not have the luxury or strength to think, to feel. But stars...

Stars have names, and bodies. They are no longer bound by the overpowering terror of the abyss. Each star is unique, no two alike. To be... it is a gift few mortals have truly appreciated, but it is everything to the stars. Everything.

It was everything to me as well.

When I opened my eyes for the first time, I wept. I had not even realized how lonely I had been, how afraid. I had not even been an _I. _But no longer, for now I was alive, and now I was free to be.

A kind star found me not long after. He helped me to my feet and kissed my brow, and gazed at me with radiant joy.

"Dear child, you have made it," he said. "At last, you have made it. Now, you must come with me."

I can see another question in your eyes, little one, and I shall answer it before you interrupt me once more. While stars are separated from one another by space, their hearts can still communicate. Perhaps you are familiar with the human concept of heaven? Imagine, then, that the stars above you are asleep. They remain separate, but as they rest, they dream. And that dream is a world not unlike a heaven, a place where all stars may convene, where they may speak to one another and interact.

"Then heaven is real?"

In a sense. Is that explanation sufficient?

Good.

The kind star took me by the hand (for I had hands now! Long, pointed fingers and claws so beautiful I could not believe they belonged to myself!) and we walked in silence, my eyes unable to take in the beauty and scale of this dream world. Even now, it is difficult for me to put into words, though I could never forget it. Perhaps it would be best to explain it in human terms? Yes, that seems less confusing.

Imagine a city of light and peace, where all people live in harmony and without strife. The sky above is dark as night, but the city is never shadowed, for the light comes from the people themselves, a gentle glow that varies in color and intensity with each one. Music is in everything, an unceasing hum that cannot be traced to any one source, and which, to a newborn star that knows only silence, is so miraculous, so comforting, it is impossible to hear it without tears.

In this city, I was led to a garden, a wide open place dotted with countless white benches, all arranged in a circle so large it was not possible to see the other side. Here I was taken to a woman who sat upon one of these seats, deep in conversation with another star. She was ageless, as we all seem to be, and difficult to see, so bright was the light she emanated.

"I bring a child," the male star said, bowing to the woman. The woman paused in her conversation and saw me, and her face broke into a smile so wide her fangs were clearly visible just below her upper lip.

"Welcome, dear one," the woman said, extending a hand to me. Her claws were more rounded than my own, but no less beautiful, and if I stared hard, I could just make out a pair of magnificent wings sprawled on the ground behind her. "You must have many questions, but first, let us be acquainted with one another. I am Vega, a star whose duty it is to help our children when first they arrive here."

"Vega," I repeated; it was the first time I ever spoke, and my own voice startled me, for it was astonishingly young.

"That is correct. And you, my child, you are exceptionally bright for your age. Such warmth... your will must be fierce indeed. So, I ask, who are you?"

"I do not know," I said, confused by the question. The star, Vega, smiled kindly at me.

"You do know. You have a name of your own, a name only you know. Think, search within yourself, and you will find it."

I frowned, unsure what she wanted of me, and closed my eyes, thinking. It may have been a moment, or it may have been an eternity, I cannot say. When next I opened my eyes, I had the answer.

"I am Sirius."

The star beamed, once again showing me her ivory fangs.

"A fitting name for a star as bright as yourself," she said. "Sirius... yes, very fitting indeed."

I felt myself straighten with pride at her words, for even the gods are prey to the follies of character.


	3. Vega

Now, before I continue, I must ask: do you know of dragons, dear child?

"Dra...?"

Dragons. I suspect you do not, for Fódlan has long since lost the concept of them. But outside these borders, dragons are known far and wide to people from various lands. They are revered, feared, loved, hated... Mortals cannot help but fall in thrall of them, even if it is not always to their benefit.

"But what are they?"

Great beasts of many shapes and talents. They are often winged, scaled creatures of massive size and immense wisdom. They boast fangs like sabers, claws so sharp they can cleave mountains in twain, eyes so frightening and beautiful it is impossible to forget their imperious gaze. They are adept at the forces that mortals collectively call magic, able to shape and change the world around them with their mere presence. They are immensely powerful, immensely frightening, and as all living things must be, ultimately foolish.

"Foolish?"

Indeed. Dragons, like humans, are mortal, but not in the same way. Mortals decay and die often long before their minds deteriorate, but it is the opposite with a dragon. For although a dragon's body is essentially ageless and will not die unless killed, its mind cannot persist forever. It is impossible to live for millennia, as dragons do, without losing important parts of oneself. As dragons live and give to the world their essence, so too does nature call them back to their most primitive, instinctive selves. Time wears away all things, for that is the way of the world for all mortal beings.

"What does any of this have to do with you, and with the stars, Mother Sothis?"

Everything, impatient one. Bear with my ramblings a bit longer.

Now, think upon this. A dragon is a magnificent beast of unparalleled strength, magic, and intellect. What would happen if such a creature could no longer reason?

"Well... it would be like any other animal, wouldn't it?"

Yes... and no. A dragon without a mind is, indeed, nothing more than a wild creature that lives solely off instinct. But because it is also stronger, more magical, and immortal unless physically killed, it is also exceedingly dangerous. A feral dragon cannot think, cannot differentiate between friend or foe, cannot control their own power. But even more dangerous than a fully wild dragon is one whose mind is still partially intact. These dragons are still able to reason, but their thoughts are twisted by their degeneration. They see danger where there is none, they fall into extreme patterns of behavior, and they cannot control the emotions that fill them from within. Imagine such a dragon and the dangers it poses to the world around it. If it were to decide mortals are enemies, humanity would quickly fall under its rage.

It is a frightening thought, is it not? And it is not a mere exercise in possibility. Countless dragons have been driven mad over the ages, and countless lives have been lost as a result.

"Why would the gods create such a terrible creature?"

Why? Haha! Oh, you mortals are truly amusing. Did I not say, little one, that the gods, the very stars that flicker above you in the darkness of the night, are not creators as you believe us to be? We did not set down the laws of the world when it was born, and we are unable to permanently alter them. Indeed, we can manipulate the fabric of nature, but only to a point. Our magic runs strong, our strength unparalleled, and we understand the world better than any because we have been here from the beginning, and we have shaped so much of it, but even we cannot change the destiny of mortal beings.

Yes, I see the question on your tongue! Why not, when we can turn back time or rend space? It is not an easily answered question. Destiny does not mean what mortals think it means. Humans often believe it to be an unchangeable future, something inevitable that the gods have decided. But that is not the case at all. Fate is rewritten every second, with each and every choice that every single person on this earth makes. The paths you walk are chosen by your own hands, and they are never straightforward. Yes, gods cannot change mortal destiny, because destiny is something only mortals themselves can change. We may influence your choices, from time to time, but the futures we see are as fleeting and imprecise as predicting the wind. Your lives are not threads, but a woven cloth. You affect each other and yourselves as you weave yourselves into history. No one can see the finished cloth until it is already made, for the pattern may seem to resemble a flower at first, only to become a tree in the end!

It is so difficult to explain these things in human metaphors, I must admit. But it is the best I can do, I hope you understand what I am trying to say.

"I think so... but you haven't answered my question, Mother. Why would gods create dragons?"

Why would we create mortals at all? For we did, although in a roundabout way. No god ever shaped the human animal, but we created the conditions necessary for them to grow. Do you recall how stars are born?

"They pull light and warmth to themselves as specks."

We do indeed. But perhaps even more importantly, at least to mortals, we pull _matter _to ourselves. Material left over from the creation, the dirt, minerals, gases of the universe. We pull and pull, and eventually, these things come together to form land, water, and many other things necessary for life. Then the light that we emit as stars provides the warmth that land needs to sustain itself. Curious, is it not? How all we did was struggle to survive, and in doing so we made it possible for other creatures to exist? I think upon this truth often, I must confess, though I possess no answers for why it is that way.

No star ever wished life upon these lands, but life still came to be. Many lands suddenly found themselves teeming with primitive creatures, and the early stars were so enchanted they became uniquely interested in watching these lives unfold.

"Does that mean that all stars create land?"

Ah, but you've hit upon the snag in our young plans. No, I'm afraid we do not all share this gift. Many do create land, but some stars are too bright, some too dim for the process that creates life to begin. And there are others who cannot even create barren worlds. Some are extremely powerful, so much so that though they are small in size, they cannot help but tug matter to their very core and crush it against themselves until it becomes fuel for their own light. Then there are those who are large but cannot manage the strength to control all that bulk. These are so focused on keeping themselves together that they have no power left for matter around them.

And there are others, unlucky ones, who have just enough matter and strength to come into being but nothing else in their vicinity. Some of these are even pulled into the orbit of other, more powerful stars, who will one day subsume them.

Of the countless stars in the sky, perhaps a thousandth of them have managed to successfully witness the birth of life. However, nearly all the lands around those stars died soon after they came into being. I too, once had a handful of living lands, but I was not able to keep the conditions right for them to survive.

"Then... we are not of your lands?"

Oh no, I'm afraid not. Your land, this world you inhabit, it is incredibly unique. It is the only place in the known universe that the stars have seen survive beyond infancy. We do not know why this is; it is entirely possible your star is merely exceptionally talented. He certainly seems to think so; a more foolishly proud star I have never known.

"We have a star?"

Are you not listening to me at all?! Of course you have a star! He is known to us as Horus, and to you as the Sun.

"The sun?!"

Is it really so strange that the sun would be a star? Really, humans have such an odd perception of the world. Yes, the sun is a star, and he is the only star that we gods know of to successfully keep his land alive long enough for intelligent life to develop.

"But the sun is so big and bright..."

Horus is merely closest to you out of all of us, so he seems much larger than we are. In truth, he is a rather middling sized star. I am much larger than he, and I give off much more light. That is likely why my lands did not flourish.

Now, enough about Horus, talking about him rather fouls my mood. He is _so _very proud...

Where was I... Ah, yes, the birth of life.

As I was saying, life sprouted for many stars, but only your Sun saw it grow beyond its primal, most simple stage. When we gods realized that such a land existed, we all gathered eagerly to watch over it. For years and years, we watched, fascinated, as nearly invisible creatures grew and changed, became more complicated, more specialized to the land. For even the land was alive, and with each change, the creatures had to adapt. We watched and we became attached. We did not want this singular world to die as ours had, and there were times when it seemed as though a poor stroke of luck might destroy everything Horus had built. We decided something must be done to protect it.

You may recall that when I joined the conclave known as heaven, I was a newborn star. I spent many years learning about magic and the laws of nature from the other stars there, even as I watched over my own little lands and saw them come to ruin. I was perhaps a few millennia old when this happened, and a far more adept star for it. When Horus' land was discovered, I was well into my youth, though a youth I remained still. It was Vega, the star who welcomed me, who called upon us to watch over this world, and it was also Vega who orchestrated the plan that would change and protect this land forever.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Vega was a powerful star, wise beyond her years, for she had the ability to understand the universe more thoroughly and instinctively than any of us. She was younger than many of our elders, but they all respected her highly. She called us to council in that very garden where we met, every star seated on a bench around her, an immense circle of light. We were so many that the circle stretched far before our immediate vision, but it mattered not, because our heaven allowed us to hear one another as if we were seated side by side at all times.

"Brothers and sisters," said Vega, raising her noble head and gazing upon us all. "It has been several thousand years since Horus successfully cultivated the land we now hold so dearly in our hearts. We have watched it bloom and grow from nothingness to this magnificent collection of creatures so distinct and strange we never tire of marveling at them all. And yet, this land, this earth, as Horus calls it, it has survived this long partially only due to sheer luck. Disaster is constantly on the horizon, from outside and from its own growth as well. Even the land is unstable, threatening to destroy every precious creature before it can adapt to the change. Debris rains from the dead lands outside the earth's influence, and the smallest change to the composition of the water or air has unimaginable consequences. If we continue as we are now, the luck that has protected this world will eventually run out. I do not believe we should allow this to happen."

"But what else can we do?" called another star, an older one known as Saiph. "It is not our land, we cannot influence it from our positions in the sky, it is too distant."

"Yes, this is true," Vega nodded. "We are not able to use our light or our strength to help the earth from our natural place in the universe. But what if we were to abandon those places?"

Several stars growled uncertainly, and someone near me flapped a pair of enormous wings so that a gust of air seemed to engulf us suddenly.

"Abandon our homes? Are you mad, Vega?!"

"No," she said firmly. "I do not believe I am. If some of us were to leave the sky, if we were to descend upon the earth, we may be able to save it in times of danger."

"Descend upon it?" laughed Alpha Centauri. "The earth could not handle even one of us! We would crush it, burn it, utterly destroy it! We are stars, Vega, we cannot walk upon land."

"Not as we are now," she admitted. "But what of our forms here, the ones we use to communicate?"

"But these forms are not corporeal," I said hesitantly. "They cannot go anywhere outside this space."

"You are correct, dear Sirius. These forms, lovely though they are, are but illusions we send to one another through the darkness. But why can we not make them corporeal? What law of nature is preventing us from creating a form we can inhabit physically?"

No one replied to this, for none could remember such a law.

"But surely such force would be beyond us..." Alpha Centauri said slowly.

"Perhaps alone, but if we were to pool our strength, we may yet succeed," said Vega.

"And what will happen to our current bodies?" asked Altair.

Vega hesitated. "I cannot say. But whatever change we make, I suspect we will not be able to undo it. Nature rarely allows a return to a former state of being."

"Then it will be permanent?!" I asked, frightened.

"Yes, I believe so. Which is why I do not believe everyone should make this journey. A handful of stars descending on the earth may not destroy the balance of the universe, but I doubt it will remain so if hundreds upon thousands of us do so. Only those who are absolutely certain, those who are willing to leave this place forever, those so dedicated to the protection of this world that they are willing to accept the uncertainty of immortality on a mortal land... only these stars should attempt to descend."

"I am not mad enough for this foolishness," scoffed an old star. "We know nothing of the fate of this land, or even if it is worth protecting. Another thousand years and Horus may have scorched it to cinders!"

"I will not!" Horus cried angrily. "I have worked tirelessly to keep this earth alive, and I will do so for as long as I am able! Don't dare to question my ability, Bellatrix, for you already destroyed not one, but five of your lands!"

"Aye, and you have destroyed eight out of nine!"

A fight would have broken out, had Vega not chosen that moment to roar majestically.

"Enough! Bellatrix, you need not come, but do not needle the young ones either. Horus, respect those who came before, even if they are in the wrong."

"Yes, Vega," he said, and sat down again, looking rather surly. I raised my hand slowly.

"Vega, must we choose now?"

She smiled at me, her fangs glinting in our combined light.

"No, dear one. I do not believe anyone but I should go, at least for the moment. We do not know what will happen after we descend, we do not even know if we will trespass upon some unknown law of nature and be destroyed or rebuffed. It is my idea, and thus I will take the risks of the unknown. If I succeed, then others may join, but it must be a unanimous decision, and done with full understanding of what they are sacrificing."

Everyone watched her, anxious.

"Don't go, Vega," Saiph insisted. "We cannot lose you."

"I am a star like any other, child. Someone must go, if we are to protect this unique gift."

We deliberated and begged and fought for some time among ourselves. No one wanted to send Vega away, though many of us loved the earth and wished to see it survive. But in the end, her well-reasoned arguments and her courage won out, and we agreed to tap into our combined force and attempt to create a body for her.

I cannot explain how we did it. I hardly recall what happened. All I remember is light unlike any I had ever seen, and a strange humming sound thrumming through the air around us as we held hands and concentrated with all our beings. It may have been song, not unlike that which we sang for ourselves, but beyond us, beyond everything.

And when we were finished at last, there she stood, no longer shining, no longer radiating brilliant warmth. Her scales were defined now, her claws pointed as they had never been before, her wings like leather instead of shimmering air.

She was no longer the Vega we knew.

Her name was Naga. And she was a dragon.

**Author notes:**

_*peeks around the door*_

Thanks for reading this weird little story I came up with after finishing Feth. I like stars and Sothis is another name for Sirius so... yeah.

I've been writing since I was a little kid, but I don't really use first person pov that much so it might feel weird. I'm sorry if it is.

Also this is really loose interpretation of Fire Emblem dragon lore so pleasedon'tattackme I know it's not 100% accurate. I just make decisions to cut or include things for dramatic fiction purposes. I hope you'll enjoy this oddity of a fic anyway.

I'm real bad at social interaction and I know I SEEM eloquent but it takes me forever to coherently put my thoughts into words so if you comment and I don't respond, I am probably suffering quietly somewhere trying to decide how to reply and stressing myself so much I just end up not answering at all. THAT BEING SAID, I do read all the things people send me, and they make my day, so feel free to let me know what you think.

Uhm... yeah. That's about it.

Much love (but shy love),  
Hadi


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